


Go Fuck Yourself

by Shalamaynerd



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Goldshire Inn, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Strippers & Strip Clubs, will update tags with next chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27563194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shalamaynerd/pseuds/Shalamaynerd
Summary: “You know,” He said, “When people tell me to go fuck myself, I’m almost positive this isn’t what they had envisioned.”The imposter laughed. “Almost?”
Relationships: Anduin Wrynn/Anduin Wrynn, Anduincest, Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 9
Kudos: 34





	Go Fuck Yourself

-...-

Anduin Wrynn didn’t like to admit it, but he fell into routine fairly quickly. 

While a king’s work was never finished, and he was always busy, he found himself time in the darkness of the night on Sundays and Saturdays to slip out of the kingdom and become someone else. 

That someone was known only as Jerek, and he frequented the local businesses in Goldshire between the hours of 1 and 4:30 in the morning, only on these weekend nights. 

Goldshire’s “Inn” was only an Inn during the weeks, becoming one of the most popular and infamous clubs in the Eastern Kingdoms for two days a week. The place was constantly busy, drinks all over the place, with dim lighting that made hiding something fairly easy. Jerek took a seat alone in the back, had a few light drinks, and watched. 

Initially, he told himself, it was only to people watch. To enjoy the silliness of drunken citizens, to listen in on their rumors, be it concerning politics or whatever was big in pop culture these days. As much as Jerek liked to pretend to be normal, Anduin had no idea what most of it meant, so neither did he. 

Initially, it wasn’t to flirt with the servers, nor was it to watch the dancers. But that’s what it became. 

Anduin never ever got to indulge in stuff like this, his personal experiences included having many crushes on many different people, having an incredibly awkward sex-ed class as a young teen, and exploring his own body only when he was sure everyone believed him to be asleep in his room. 

Well- No, no that’s not entirely true, but Jerek- er, Anduin- wasn’t here to think about his first time. 

He wasn’t here to think about him. 

And to be honest, Jerek hasn’t had a first time. 

He was here to watch the dancers, and to fantasize, and then go home early enough to masterbate and become Anduin again. Which was why he liked sitting in the back, out of most people’s vision, out of their consciousness. 

Goldshire employed a lot of different dancers, most of them women, and Jerek didn’t complain. They were all beautiful, skillful in their practice, and stars of their own shows. This led to many of Goldshire’s customers being male, but every now and then there were male dancers. Like his original identity, Jerek enjoyed both, but if he were to have a preference, it was the latter. 

Tonight, Saturday night, apparently had been advertised as a “ladies’ night”, attempting to attract a higher volume of female customers. In doing so, they provided free drinks to them, and focused on more male dancers. Jerek wasn’t about to think about how the dancers were very obviously enjoyed by more than just the ladies. No, he held his drink carefully, watching them, paying no mind to anything or anyone else. 

Jerek was pulled from his thoughts when an announcement began the show, and the first dancer’s name was said. 

On the stage, all the way across the room, the first of the dancers made their way to the spotlight, grabbing onto the pole. He was a slightly older void elf, long blue hair with a few white strands. He looked stunning, obviously worked out, and showed off the few scars he had across his shoulders and chest. 

The elf smirked as cheers rained down on him. 

Jerek fantasized about the elf smirking at him, wondered what his hair felt like, wondered if he used the void in bed too. His thoughts then turned to the void, how it was his only real “toy”, Anduin being far too embarrassed at the idea of keeping a real sex toy, especially when anyone could find it. The void, however, wasn’t something just put away in the drawers or under the bed, and could be called for only when needed. Jerek thought heavily back on his past use of the void tentacles, back to how the void whispered to him, helped him in his goals for even just that moment in time. 

Jerek took another drink from his cup, continuing to watch as another dance walked on stage, as the void elf left. 

They announced his name, stage name at least, and people cheered. The dancer would put on a show, show off their body, make lewd motions, gain applause, and then leave for the next dancer. The elf was followed by a human, who was “dressed” as a pirate, and played the stereotype well. He at one point threw his hat into the crowd, chuckleing as a few different people fought over it.

The human was followed by a large draenei man, which Jerek couldn’t help but stare at. He’d never fully explored his own interest in one race over another, but he did have a thing for draenei. He fantasized a lot about being pinned down by one, whether they be male or female, or maybe there were two. He didn’t know, but they were strong, and tall, and had long beautiful hair, horns, tails, all of it interested him. It was silly how heated he got just watching the man show off, how his tail wrapped around the pole, how his face tentacles followed- maybe it was just that he had a thing for tentacles? 

Whatever it was, Jerek found himself very turned on, and very disappointed when the man’s show had ended. 

As the show continued, based on whose ideas he had no idea, but each dancer towards the end of the show were announced as if they were “better than the last”. Well, not so much better, but much more anticipated than the last. Someone you might not get to see as often, and it was clear why when the next dancer was a blood elf. And the cheer for him was massive. 

To be honest, while Goldshire was the center for Alliance recruitment and propaganda, there wasn’t much of that during the Inn’s weekend nights. While you’d hear awfully racist things said during the day, during the weeks, it all seemed to disappear when nearly naked men and women took away everyone’s attention. Goldshire sometimes paid for a Horde dancer to visit, and it was always a successful investment. 

And, had anyone actually had a problem with it, the bouncers had their asses outside in the mud in seconds. Jerek imagined part of the agreement to get these Horde dancers out here, so close to the Alliance capital, they had some pretty tight and secure protection agreements. 

The blood elf man was young, had short blonde hair, and glowing green eyes. He had red tattoos all over his arms and chest, though Jerek was too far away to tell if they said or meant anything. He toyed with his long ears, letting the jewelry sparkle in the spotlight. He grinned and spoke words in a language Jerek was sure no one else in the audience understood, most common folk weren’t forced to learn Thalassian at a young age like he’d- like Anduin had been. The act, anyway, got great positive attention, and so the man continued speaking lovely things. 

It was odd, to know what he said when no one else did, and for a delusional moment it felt like he’d been talking to Jerek directly. It was almost like he could feel this personal connection, where there was none, and so when the elf left the stange, Jerek felt a strange emptiness in his absence.

He turned to his drink, hoping that it might calm the heat building in his body. He shifted uncomfortably, as it did nothing to aid him, almost missing the next dancer being announced on to the stage.

Frozen in thought, not even taking in what was going on around him, he realized that the stage name of the last act was “Boy King”.

H-how funny, Jerek thought, deciding not to think too much on the nickname he’d come to loath. 

Yet, as the last dancer slowly, almost painfully slowly, walked to the end of the stage, it became quite clear to Jerek why the stage name was Boy King, and why it bothered him so much. 

It was him- with HIS looks, his image, his blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, his shiny young blue eyes, his slightly freckled face, his nose shape, his jaw, his pale skin. His outfit was a mix of white, with royal blues, and golden details. 

The only thing that was different, and a detail only he would know , was that the dancer’s body was clear of any scars. Perfect, flawless skin, incredibly shiny against the spotlights. 

He knew that he had impersonators, everyone did, and Goldshire liked to bring in impersonators of celebrities, but Jerek hadn’t seen the house host a political impersonator. Not that he’d been going here long, only a few months at most. 

And, Anduin wasn’t a normal politician, at least not what most people thought of when they thought of politicians, more so monarchs. They thought of old white haired men, nobels far too selfish for their own good, constantly bickering. Politician wasn’t a sexy word. Nor was monarch, though, really. 

Anduin, however, was incredibly young, and apparently, very attractive. And single.

He knew that, uh, that he was sought after, but the most he ever saw of that were ballroom dances with noblemen's daughters and admirable, sometimes a little creepy, letters. 

He knew people lusted after him, but he never really got to see any of that. 

He was sure that his impersonator did, and had built their practice on it. On taking advantage of the fact that Azeroth was full of people who wanted to see the Alliance king with just a little less clothing. 

Or none at all, Jerek had no idea who this impersonator really was, how far they went, all of this was based on first impressions. 

It was uncomfortable, to be honest, watching as the entire building seemed to have been caught under the dancer’s charm. The Boy King was quick in his moves, knew exactly how to pose, how to wink at people in the front row. 

It was so weird seeing himself do these things. Anduin- and Jerek too- were never really one to stare at himself in a mirror. Not that he had time to, but there was something more to it. He didn’t like seeing himself. Not in a mirror. Not almost nude dancing sexually for about a couple hundred different people at once. Didn’t like the lude things the crowd shouted and cheered back at him. 

The dancer smiled warmly to his audience, even seemed to reply to a few of them, as if he were focused on both his own show and on his individual viewers. He was very clearly skilled, more so then the others, not that Jerek understood the ins and outs of stripping and dancing. He DID know entertainment, as if needing to entertain other people while juggling other priorities, and he knew when he could spot that same ability in someone else. 

Jerek adjusted in his seat, his uncomfortable feeling fading as he seemed to find some sort of appreciation. Appreciation? That didn't totally feel right either, especially not when he was still very horny and turned on. 

A deep blush came over his face when he realized that he was actually very interested in the Boy King’s performance. He found his eyes trying to peer away, but he couldn’t help but stare at the man’s chest, his gorgeous smile, his long legs and his bulge, which looked larger when pushed up against the pole. 

How was it that he’d come to Goldshire to ignore the very fact that Anduin existed, and all he could find was Anduin. How was it that this image of himself turned him on so badly. As Jerek downed the rest of his drink, he found his dumb head fantasizing more and more about the dancer before him. 

He wanted to reach out, to touch him, to have his attention all to himself. 

His own eyes go dark, lusting over the man, one arm leaning against the table, another dangerously nearing his own growing crotch. 

He freezes momentarily when he swears the dancer saw him, smiled at him, though Jerek wasn’t stupid, and ignored the look. He was being delusional, he knew better, and he needed to stop.

He continues, taking use of the dim lighting and the darkness of his corner of the building, and paws slowly at his own crotch, hidden slightly by his cloak, though anyone with a good eye might catch him. Not that he’d care, everyone’s attention lay elsewhere. 

The Boy King was beautiful, incredibly handsome, and glowed as though he practiced the light. Jerek held back a laugh, he supposed in a way the dancer -did- practice in the light, just in a different way. The spot light must have been hot, Jerek finding himself thinking about the beads of sweat that rolled down the man’s skin, he supposed, he was too far away to see them but could reason that they were there. 

He could see the twinkle of the gold lining all of his clothing, projecting small beads of rainbow light across the dark walls of the building. He could see the glimmer of a small round gold earring in the man’s right ear, yet nothing shined in the man’s left ear. He could feel himself growing far too excited. 

Jerek lost track of time, in awe at the man performing, whose performance came to an end far too soon. Not that his time on stage was longer or shorter then the other dancers, but for Jerek, he’d hoped it would last longer. That time would still till he’d had his fill of eyeing the pretty man. But no, the dance ended, and as the crowd awed and cheered, the man turned to leave, waving to the crowd, giving winks and smiling wide. 

Jerek knew it was his delusion, but he swore the man’s last gaze upon the audience had rested on himself, those blue eyes almost slightly widening, before turning away to disappear behind stage. 

Shaking his head, Jerek knew it was time to leave. To go back home, to release himself of the excitement he’d built up, and to go back to being who he really was. He placed gold onto the table to pay for his drinks, nodding to the waitress as he stood to leave, gripping his cloak and pulling the hood over his face. 

He stepped outside, the cold air immediate, but not pressing. He paused, looking up at the stars, admiring them before he’d need to head back under the cover of the forest, on his way back to the cover of stonework and blue banners. Of course, he didn’t spend too long, beginning his walk away from the establishment. 

“Jerek!”

Jerek’s heart jumped, as he swore he’d heard his name distantly, but as he turned around to look, he only saw a few people, hanging outside the buildings and businesses of Goldshire. He saw no one waving at him, and in all honesty he didn’t want to risk stopping for anyone who’d knew his fake name already. The waitress who’d knew his name wasn’t running out to get him, he saw, so turned and rushed forward, across the dirt street. 

But his heart raced, he’d been sure he heard his name. He rounded the corner of the nearest building, hoping to lose anyone who might have called for him, but most importantly, calming himself down. 

He was far too on edge, in multiple different ways, and getting back home really wasn’t as urgent as he wanted it to be.

Jerek leaned back against the side of the blacksmith’s building, out of sight and out of mind. He struggled to contain his own thoughts, as he knew he should go home, but he had at least another two hours before he was needed, and he didn’t want to waste the time. 

But he swore he’d been seen, caught, and the idea that anyone would take that moment to recognize him frightened him. If it wasn’t the waitress, had it been Jaina? She knew him too. But, by the light, being found in Goldshire at THIS hour by his aunt was a mortifying thought!

Jerek caught his breath, rubbing his hands together to combat the cold, though still heavily aware of his own erection. He wanted to touch himself right then and there, despite the risk of anyone walking around the corner and catching him, despite the risk of getting caught for public indecency, but no.

“Jerek, is it?”

His heart jumped and he turned to see a figure joining him beside the building walls. He felt like he couldn’t breath as he realized it was the dancer, the impersonator, covered in a dull blue cloak and a bit more clothing. 

Just the sight of him made him blush, and he couldn’t hide it in the shadows anymore. 

“H-How did you-”

“I asked the waitresses, forgive me.” the Imposter smiled sweetly. “They know everyone’s names, I assumed you knew.”

Jerek gulped, nodding his head. “I-I do.”

The dancer inched closer, his voice sweet and smooth and oh so lovely to hear. “I couldn’t help but notice…”

The man’s eyes glanced downwards, and a smile grew on his face. “Seems the light wasn’t just shining on me.”

The beautiful, handsome, identical imposter leaned against Jerek, Jerek trapped against the brick wall, their chests touching. He could feel the imposter’s leg between his own and he was creating friction and oh god was that alone too much stimulation for the man to bear. 

“W-” Jerek tried to look away, gulping, clearly trying to deal with the desire that overcame him. “What do I call you?”

The imposter leaned in, taking gentle hold of Jerek’s face, his fingers cold against Jerek’s heated cheeks. Jerek couldn’t look away anymore, looking desperately into those beautiful, darkened blue eyes. 

“Whatever you need to call me,” He spoke so sweetly, but then his voice darked when he added “my champion~”

F-Fuck, Jerek blinked away a few tears that the stimulation gave him. He heard himself in that voice, heard the thousands of times he referred to people as his champion, and not a single time had those words been said with such need, nor had those words been said to him. But still, it only turned him on more, the idea that he got to play a different role. 

But that really didn’t answer his question, and he had no idea what he wanted to call the man who he was probably gonna fuck in the next hour. Or, at least get touched by, he wasn’t sure, but he could read the room, put together context clues, and so on. 

He wasn’t about to call him an imposter, that seemed redundant. Did he say ‘his majesty’? ‘My King’? Did he dare say his own name? And if so, did he use ‘King Wrynn’? Nah, he still thought of his own father with that title, he himself tried getting people to call him King Anduin.

He supposed if he were to be this intimate with someone under his original identity, he would want them to call him his own first name. 

He was brought back out of his thoughts when the imposter pulled him into a heated kiss. It was short, sweet, and only meant to capture him again. 

“Seems like you need my help,” He spoke, leaning in more, his entire lower body pressed into Jerek’s. Their crotches pressed into each other. Jerek could feel the other man just as interested in him as he was. “Let’s start formal, after all we’ve only just met.”

The man’s lips touched Jerek’s cheek gently, his breath felt as he spoke. “You’ve heard what they call me. What my people know me as. Boy King.”

Then, suddenly, the Boy King stepped back, their bodies no longer pressed together, though the man now held Jerek’s hand, almost pulling him forward. 

“Get me to a bed and we can be a bit more…informal.” 

Jerek caught himself staring, almost dumbfounded, at the man’s smile. The Boy King clearly saw Jerek’s response, and the blush on his face, and he laughed. 

“You do wish to follow, yes?” He asked, holding Jerek’s hand with both of his own.

Jerek blinked a few times, still not quite over the situation he was finding himself in. He nodded, stepping forward.

“Y-Yes,” He said awkwardly, embarrassed at his lack of ability to find the proper words. “Of course, your majesty.” 

The title made the Boy King grin, and he turned to pull Jerek away from the shadows.

Jerek followed closely, adjusting his coat as the imposter did with his own coat, the two wishing to make their way back across Goldshire without dragging too much attention. Jerek expected them to head back into the front of the inn, however the Boy King was pulling him around back. 

They entered the back of the inn through a discreet exit, finding themselves avoiding all of the crowded areas of the building. Through the back employee-only hallways, they made their way up to the second floor, to a room not connected to the usual guest’s rooms wing. 

Jerek watched as the Boy King pulled out a key to the room, unlocking the door and stepping inside. The man pulled Jerek along, closing the door behind him.

The excitement of the outside meeting and rushing together into the Boy King’s room almost seemed to fade as soon as the door closed behind him, the click louder to him than it probably was. As he looked around the room, the reality that this was actually going to happen slowly overcame him. 

While Jerek stood still, suddenly unable to move,the Boy King had walked across the room, to place the key down onto a small table, up against the wall with two chairs to either side. Jerek’s eyes wandered around the room, almost completely missing the Boy King removing his cloak to drape around one of the chairs. The Boy King turned back to him, a bit surprised by Jerek’s lack of action.

“Star struck?” he asked, walking back over to Jerek, reaching around to take off Jerek’s cloak himself. 

“I...I haven't...I’ve never done this before.” Jerek felt embarrassed, losing part of his excitement. 

This was all too new to him, and the thought that he shouldn’t be here, and that he shouldn’t be interacting with his imposter like this was too much. This was wrong. 

But the man before him offered him something he’d long craved, an escape from reality, another person’s embrace, another man’s touch. 

It had been too long since he was with someone, and the scars of the last man he loved still stung, despite their age. 

“You are in good hands, Champion.” The man before him said, pulling Jerek to sit on the bed with such gentle motions that it almost felt like they weren’t strangers, but old lovers. “I am here to please you, know that you have full control over anything that happens here, or doesn't happen.”

Jerek nodded, sitting on the side of the bed, feeling the soft mattress and blankets sink below him. He felt the bed beside him dip and watched as the Boy King joined him. 

“Anxious?” He asked Jerek.

“Not everyday you get to see a king like this.” Jerek said sheepishly.

The Boy King placed his hand on Jerek’s arm, leaning in, using his other hand to turn Jerek’s face to face him directly. 

“How’s this?”

Jerek was confused at first, but then felt a rather familiar tingle on his cheek and arm, where the Boy King touched him. He realized quickly what it was.

Jerek’s eyes widened. “A priest?”

The light, gentle and small, was being channeled into him, calming his anxiousness. He knew this feeling all too well, but never expected an imposter to wield it too. 

“I suppose the sword and plate armor make that a bit surprising.” The Boy King chuckled. Jerek smiled, completely understanding that though, having wanted to voice it for so long. He was glad, to some degree, people realized his dilemma. Finding out here was interesting. 

“They never fit anyway.” Jerek said, before realizing his slip. Well, it could be passed on as an outside view, and it seemed that’s how it was taken. 

“Good thing clothes aren't a part of our plans.”

The light faded, and the beautiful blonde gently pushed Jerek back onto the bed, leaning over him, his hair falling over his shoulders. Jerek gazed up at him, captured by his looks.

“Tell me, Jerek,” The man ran his hand across Jerek’s lips. “Where do your interests lay?”

Jerek listened, leaning into the man’s touch, feeling himself grow needy again. 

“Do you want to rule?” He continued, emphasizing his next words. “Or do you want to be ruled?”

Jerek’s mind began to feel clouded, focusing all on one desire, and that was to be touched. Sometimes he wanted to touch others, wanted to be dom, but sometimes he didn’t, and right now he wasn’t in a mindset to be the ruler. He wanted someone else to make the calls, he wanted to reap the rewards without calling the shots. 

“I am at your command, my king~” Jerek looked up at the man over him with lustful eyes. 

Oh, his smirk, it was hypnotizing. The king above him began to move his hands around Jerek’s clothes, getting a feel for where the buttons were, all while holding Jerek’s desperate gaze. 

“We’ll start slow.” Boy King said in a commanding tone, though his intention to make his actions clear to his lover something Jerek understood through his lusty fog. “And should you dare, I allow you to advise my majesty.” 

He leaned in to bring his lips to Jereks, however stopping before they could connect. 

“Understood?”

Jerek nodded, “Understood.”

Boy King placed a quick kiss on Jerek’s lips, before sitting back up. He took his hands off of Jerek’s clothing, catching the man off guard. Why suddenly were they not touching anymore?

“Undress me.” 

Jerek looked at the man in front of him, eyes wondering down to his clothes. As Jerek shifted to sit up, he began investigating the clothes he wore and what’d he’d need to do to discard them. The blue and white and gold silk shined in the dim lighting of the room, the fabrics of the man’s shirt thin but not transparent. His shirt opened at the neck with a large, sharp V shape, temporarily reminding Jerek of the outfit of a man that’d brought him pain to think about. His beautiful dark chest, with little course chest hairs, and the ruby necklace, those bold red eyes and-

Jerek shook the thought of the past away, looking up to the Boy King, who’d noticed Jerek’s hesitation. The king reached out and gently took Jerek’s hands, bringing them to rest on the king’s hips, leaving them and inviting them to wonder. 

Jerek felt anxious, nervous, watching his own hands as they started slow, playing with the edges of the king’s shirt, and tugging gently at the ends that were tucked into his equally stunning pants. The hem of the shirt was pulled from the pants, letting Jerek’s fingers enter underneath. Jerek felt the king’s skin. As he tested his boundaries, the king watched intently, one hand holding Jerek’s shoulder, channeling light to calm Jerek and encourage more confidence. 

Jerek pushed up the king’s shirt, the two working together to get the shirt over his head and to the side. Jerek let his hands play with the rim of the king’s pants while his eyes still stayed on the man’s chest. This is where some of the disguise faltered, but in truth it was now left to details only the real Anduin would know about. Jerek saw clear skin, save for a mole on the right side, and faint freckles. There were no scars. None at all. The real king had hundreds, all echoes of a dangerous past encounter and a near death experience. 

It felt strange to see himself without scars, to ponder a world in which he had not known the pain scars brought upon getting them. He thought back to the last time he enjoyed life without scars, the young teenager he’d been. Momentarily he thought about how’d he’d explored his own sexual desires before war and crushed bones made all of that very difficult. How’d he’d survived months unable to move while being a horny human teenager was beyond his comprehension. 

Jerek must have been taking it too slow, or the king believed him still hesitant, as the king’s hands rested on his, and helped guide him to removing the pair of pants the king wore. The man’s legs were equally scar free, covered in soft light blonde hairs. The lack of thick coarse hair led Jerek to believe the man shaved recently, contrasting Jerek’s lack of shaving. Didn’t really think it a good use of time when he was never allowed to wear clothes that showed off his arms or legs. That was unkingly. 

All that was left were the king’s underwear, and boy did the man whose job it was to please people not at all hide anything in thick cloth. 

As much as Jerek felt he needed to savor the moment, or something, he wasn’t sure, most of his experience with these interactions were from erotic romance novels he’d hidden in his room. He wondered if he should touch him, grope him, but he still could not bring himself to step over that boundary unless directed to by the king. So he pressed his fingers into the man’s sides, dipping them below the cloth and pulling them down. 

Jerek felt his face heat up, and despite how much he wanted to look, was expected too, he found it difficult to. The king slipped out of his last piece of clothing, his member free and very clearly showing off how much the man enjoyed this. Jerek looked up to meet the king’s face, and wondered. Despite being a near mirror image, he wondered who the man really was, behind the mask. Who was he before he took on the title of Boy King? Jerek did not dwell on that for long, before the king once again laid him on his back, sitting over him, now fully nude. 

“I must say, you’re being very quiet.” The king said, pulling the bright royal blue bow out of his hair, letting the blonde locks fall over his shoulder and rain down to the sides of his face. 

Jerek nodded his head, humming in response. “N-need a break.”

“From talking?” The King wondered. “You have me curious, are you usually talkative?”

Jerek opened his mouth to reply, only to feel the man above him start rutting against him, the deepening pressure causing him to softly gasp. The king smirked, enjoying the sounds Jerek made as he grinded his weight against his. Yet, the king didn’t continue for very long, the clothing Jerek still wore actually rather uncomfortable to rub against with just bare skin. 

“It’s a shame,” The king continued. “I do wish to hear you more.”

Jerek watched as the king slid back, lowering himself between his legs, all while dipping his hands into the him of Jerek’s pants. He played with the silver buckle of his belt, the metal clattering as it was pushed aside. Then, to Jerek’s surprise, the king leaned his head in, opening the buttons and zipper of his pants with his mouth. He pulled back slowly, locking his eyes up to meet Jerek’s look, giving the poor man a wink when he noticed just how red his face was. 

The man sat up again, this time reaching to pull Jerek’s pants down, Jerek reaching down to help kick them off. Jerek then reached to push down his boxers, the king stopping him with his hand on Jerek’s. 

“Not too fast, love.” He purred, and Jerek felt himself red with embarrassment. That’s right, the king was in charge. He wanted to utter an apology of some kind, but found himself still unable to speak. 

Instead, he laid back down as the king only slightly pushed his underwear down, only enough to pull out his member. The king’s hands were soft, incredibly soft, and it felt heavenly to have someone other than himself lay hands on him again. It’d been far too long, and Jerek pulled his mind away before he could think upon the past. Luckily, had he any trouble, the king was a master at gaining his attention. 

Jerek let out a needy moan as he felt the Boy King’s lips around the head of his cock, unable to repress the urge to buck up. The Boy King responded by taking him in more, however placing his hand on Jerek’s thigh, gently holding him down a bit. 

The feeling of a hot wet mouth around him sent his nerves dancing, his body unlocking a newfound source of energy. Jerek felt his feet move around, digging into the bed and hooking around the king’s body, desperately wanting to exhaust the energy building up. 

As the king continued working on him, speeding up and letting the saliva dripping from his mouth coat Jerek’s cock in its entirety, Jerek couldn’t keep himself quiet. He began panting, letting out small moans and gasps based on the actions of the man seeking to his needs. With each passing moment, Jerek’s noises grew slightly louder, his confidence overcoming his past embarrassment and allowing him to fully enjoy the actions he partook in. He felt himself grow harder, his entire body become incredibly sensitive and needy, and he wondered how he’d gone so many years without another man’s attention in bed. 

He’d really needed this and was grateful that the man impersonating him had sought him out, had seen him leave, and had wanted his company. To think he’d really just planned to eye people then go home and jack it was sad. 

Jerek gripped hard at the sheets, his thighs shaking as he felt the energy within him pool and wind up, threatening to give out at any second. He couldn’t hold back, bucking his hips up along with the king’s rhythm, this time the man allowing him to do so. But, again, only for so long. As close as Jerek felt to releasing, to expelling the built up spring of energy, the king pulled away, leaving Jerek to thrust into cold open air. 

He let out a whine, the tears that formed in his eyes blinked away, as all he heard was the soft chuckle from the king’s lips. 

“You fall apart quickly, champion. I’d hope that you’ll serve me much longer then that.” He teased, amused by the childish glare he received in reply. 

As the king licked away the pre-cum that’d dripped from his mouth, he turned to continue undressing the man below him. This time Jerek let the king work alone, entranced in watching as the king explored his body, taking the activity painfully slowly. 

Jerek watched as the king’s eyes looked up his legs, taking in the deep scarring that he’d not yet really paid attention to. The deep cuts around Jerek’s knees, implying surgery at the least ,as well as all the little cuts and bruises that never really disappeared. Jerek gulped, worried for a moment that the man would be taken back by them, but instead he seemed to admire them, or at least be in awe, for he gave Jerek a comforting look.

The king ran his hand up Jerek’s leg, brushing against all the light leg hair, up past his thigh, to pull down his undergarments and remove them completely. He returned, then, to lean forward over Jerek, lightly pushing his body against Jerek’s as he ran his hands under Jerek’s shirt. As he did so, his eyes gazing across Jerek’s skin, he spoke compliments. 

“You’re quite beautiful, champion.” He said, not even glancing up to meet Jerek’s look. No, the man seemed captivated, pushing Jerek’s shirt up and tracing many of the scars with his fingers while doing so. 

“You’re so young.” He said, his voice almost mournful. Melancholy? “Yet you have the scars of a elderly veteran.” 

Jerek waited for the king to ask him why, to ponder aloud about the possible reasons behind the hundreds of scars littering his body, but that never came. Only admiration. Only a gaze that Jerek almost wanted to call love, because the last time he’d seen that gaze, it’d been with red eyes, and a man he’d sworn had loved him. 

The king sat up, with Jerek’s aid removing the last pieces of clothing that remained on him. The king's legs straddled Jerek’s sides, his gaze continuing to take in Jerek’s form, thumbs pressing softly against the scars of his collarbones before coming up to caress his neck, and then his jaw and cheek. He did so, noticing how Jerek seemed to silently enjoy the almost romantic gestures, despite their actual relationship. 

The king let his hips slide back until they met with Jerek’s, reaching his hand down to grasp both his own and Jerek’s cock together, using the slick pre-cum already dripping from both of them to pump quickly. Jerek shivered, arching his back in reaction to the man’s rough touch. 

“You serve me well, champion.” The king purred, the slightest hint of breathlessness hidden behind his words. “Perhaps you are deserving of more than just my touch~.”

“P-please-”Jerek nodded without thinking, the king above him chuckling at his desperation.

“Tell me,” The king commanded, letting his nails gently run across the tip of Jerek’s head, eliciting a moan from him. “What would you ask of your king?” 

The king leaned down, forcing their bodies together, applying more force with his hand work while thrusting up a few times against the near nonexistent gap between their bodies. He let his breath linger near Jerek’s ear before edging him onwards.

“Let me reward you properly, with the fantasies you’d dare not utter.” The king’s voice felt deeper, darker, and whatever spell he’d had over Jerek, Jerek couldn’t remain unresponsive.

“Fffuck me-” Jerek whined, bucking up to meet the king’s thrusts. “Please, fuck me~”

“Me?” The king leaned back completely, taking his hands off Jerek. 

“I need your majesty~”

Jerek felt ready, ready for whatever the man would do with him, ready for them to get on with it. He dared not express his impatience any more with words, his expressions said it all, though he was sure the man above him could read him clearly anyway. He frowned slightly at the loss of friction, but watched in pleasure as the king pulled his attention away only for the few moments he needed to retrieve a small vial. In that moment, Jerek’s attention returned to the man’s body, covered in sweat, just as beautiful as it’d been the first moment he’d laid eyes on it. 

The king opened the vial with his teeth, the pop of the cork soft and yet so loud in Jerek’s ears. The cork fell to the sheets of the bed, disappearing in their mess, and Jerek felt his hair stand on edge as the cold gel-like liquid from the vial was smothered onto his thighs. The king’s hands explored past Jerek’s length, the cold following with his touches, till they found his back entrance. 

“A-ah~” Jerek gasped as he felt the king’s fingers enter him, pushing and prodding him. He ich that he’d been too distracted to notice was met, and it felt heavenly, no matter the stretch. 

“Nnnng-nnow,” Jerek pleaded, pushing back against the man’s hand. “Ppleaase.” 

The man chuckled “Of course.”

He worked Jerek open for only a few more moments, stopping a bit early in his own opinion, but he was confident that Jerek would be fine. He’d, as shown before, had the light at his tips anyway. Pain was never an issue. 

Jerek let his legs wrap around the king’s waist, the king running his wet hand across Jerek’s scarred hips as he used his other hand to line himself up against Jerek’s hole. Letting out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he held in, the king pushed in, unable to hold back his groan as the man below him tightened around him. His eyes squeezed closed, only opening to peek at Jerek, whose face was twisted in a mixture of pleasure and pain. 

The man called the light to his hands, resting them atop Jerek’s hips, letting the warmth seep into Jerek and ease the uncomfortable entrance he made. Near instantly, Jerek seemed to melt against the bed, no longer bracing himself, now more than accepting of the king’s cock inside him. 

The king bucked into him slowly, focusing more on his angle and Jerek’s response then the speed of his thrusts. He sunk into Jerek, the man below taking him all in, before pulling back and rushing forward again, each time searching for any spot that would cause Jerek to gasp and moan more so then he was already doing. He must have at some point, speeding up his movements, as Jerek’s legs tightened around him, his thighs squeezing against the king’s hips, his nails clawing at anything in reach.

Jerek completely fell apart, his back bending, his arms roaming around the bed, going from gripping the sheets to hugging the pillow below his head to clawing at the headboard. His eyes were closed tightly, yet the king could see beads of tears work their way out and slide down his face, caused by the growing overwhelming amount of stimulation and energy within. The king smiled, taking in the beautiful man below him, his moaning akin to music, as he increased the speed he bucked into him, gaining him a deeper moan. 

The bed rocked below them, and the king felt himself groan, feeling himself begin to falter. It was about this time that his persona was difficult to keep, the regal and controlling king, falling more into that of a desperate and needy royal. He, still, soaked in the sight of the man below, only to realize something small, something he could hardly focus on enough to really process. It seems that Jerek’s hair color was rubbing off onto the white pillow below, staining it a dark gray. 

How interesting, the king noted as he rammed into Jerek with more strength, Jerek gasping in reply, his panting filling up the room. It appeared that Jerek’s hair color was not a dark brown, but likely blonde, small bits of gold peeking through the strands that were losing their color. 

Humming, the king reached over to play with Jerek’s hair, testing the man’s reaction, pulling gently, and then grabbing with a bit more force. Jerek didn’t seem to mind, if he noticed at all, and the king pulled his hand away, caressing the strands as they fell back against the pillow, leaving behind stains of black boot polish on the king’s hand. 

“I-” Jerek gasped, his eyes peeking open, letting tears flow down his face. “I’m almost-”

The king rammed into Jerek continuously, reaching down his clean hand to jerk Jerek off, feeling the pressure inside himself reach critical levels as well. He wasn’t too far off, his legs beginning to shake from the exhaustion. Yet, before he could allow either of them release, he leaned over, closer to Jerek’s face, letting their hot breathing mix together. 

“Say my name, Anduin~” He commanded, lustful eyes meeting Jerek’s, who groaned and twisted and closed his eyes, gasping and focusing in on himself and his tightening body. 

“Aaah-Anduin~!” Jerek cried out, his entire body shaking, letting himself release. 

He came, his lower stomach decorated in cum, along with the king’s hand, who slowed his jerking to a stop. Listening to Jerek’s loud moans and watching his body shudder helped the king onwards, his hands gripping Jerek’s hips as he leaned back and slammed himself into Jerek’s hole, as fast and as loudly as he could, most likely bruising both their hips in the process. 

He closed his eyes, focusing on his climax, that was only a few more thrusts away, when he felt force pulling his head down. He gasped, Jerek reaching up to tangle his fingers into the king’s golden hair, pulling the man down into a deep and desperate kiss. It didn’t last at all, but the very act caused him to hit his climax, his loud cry forcing him to pull away from Jerek’s needy lips. His thrusts slowed to a halt as he filled Jerek’s insides, the cum leaking out and spilling onto their thighs and staining the bedsheets. 

The two remained, tangled together, catching their breaths while basking in the foggy euphoria that their climaxes brought. Jerek stared up at the king, the king back, both admiring each other as their senses slowly returned. 

The imposter above him was the first to move away, leaving Jerek hyper aware of the bed he laid on, and how all he wanted to do was fall asleep within the ruined sheets, no care in the world for anything but the tired ache in his body. He turned on his side, rubbing his head into the pillow, letting out a yawn as he felt the pull of sleep. 

He knew better, however, and thus made sure to keep his mind active, letting himself close his eyes while listening in to the creek of the floorboards and the bed as the imposter moved around. He imagined the man walking around, and had an idea why, but couldn’t be sure. Not until he felt the bed beside him dip in pressure, and soft hands gently pull at his legs. 

“This will be cold, love.”

Jerek nodded, calming himself before he felt a damp cloth pressed against him, moving around and cleaning up the mess the two made between his legs and on his stomach. Jerek thought back, when he would clean himself, remembering the act as bothersome and more so a requirement than anything else. However, surprising to him, the feeling here was much nicer, and oddly comforting. The rag was warm, soothing, and perhaps it too had something to do with the fact that it was another person giving him attention, and not himself hiding the shame of masterbation. 

When he was done cleaning them both, the imposter got up again, to probably put away the rag, and returned a few moments later, placing something down on the table beside the bed. Jerek opened his eyes to see a glass of water, suddenly realizing just how thirsty he’d become. He groaned, not wanting to leave the comfort of the sheets, but sat up to drink down what the imposter provided him. 

When he was finished, he placed the glass back down, sitting back against the headboard of the bed, noticing the imposter laying out across the bed, half twisted in a blanket, just as tried as Jerek felt. 

He wanted to say something, perhaps join the man in the comforting silence, enjoy what time he had left and- 

The time, Jerek thought, and froze. The imposter noticed, sitting up slightly with his elbows. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, watching Jerek look around the room with a worried face.

“You have a clock, yes?” Jerek asked.

The imposter nodded, pointing up towards the door they entered through, Jerek seeing a wooden painted clock ticking away above the door frame.

It was nearly 4:30 AM, no doubt the sun would be rising in just an hour or two. 

“Shit!” Jerek frowned, suddenly getting up, rushing to put his clothes back on. 

The imposter watched, though only with slight concern, propping his head up with his hand as Jerek nearly tripped putting back on his pants. 

“Leaving so soon?” The imposter frowned playfully. 

Jerek, reaching for his shirt on the side of the bed, looked to the man while nodding. “I need to get home, before my- my family notices I left.”

The imposter sighed, sitting up to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching up to help Jerek properly button up his shirt, for in his hurry he seemed to have missed a button or two. 

“A shame. I enjoy your company.” The imposter replied, watching Jerek retrieve his cloak and items. 

He heard Jerek let out a small laugh, and he knew what it meant, that he hadn't believed him, and he could understand why. He was, after all, a sex worker, and was paid to say such things. Before the man put his cloak back on, he turned to walk back over to the imposter, reaching into a small bag connected to his belt and pulling out a small bag of gold. Jerek handed it to the man, still nude and sitting against the bed. 

“I hope this is enough for your time.” Jerek spoke, his face a bit red, nervousness returning to his voice. 

The imposter hesitantly took the gold, placing it to the side and standing up from the bed, dragging with him the soft blanket that had been pushed to the side, wrapping himself up in it to follow Jerek to the door of the room. 

“You’ve bought more than my time,” He said, reaching out to place his hand on Jerek’s arm, pulling the nervous man back to look at him. “Your majesty.”

Jerek’s eyes widened, and a series of emotions flashed through those beautiful blue orbs. Fear, the imposter noted, and he realized perhaps he should be more careful of his wording. He pulled Jerek in closer, hands gently caressing his cheeks, as he placed a kiss on his lips. 

“Your secrets are safe with me.” He smiled, pulling back, letting his hands grace the real king’s face for a few moments before pulling back and turning away.

“I’m here all week, should you need an escape.” He continued, taking a seat on the edge of the bed again, running his hands through the ruined sheets as if to emphasize his words. 

Jerek opened his mouth to speak, to ask questions, but again he found himself unable to talk. He blinked a few times, coming to terms with the fact that his identity was known. Oddly, despite the anxiousness and fear that he’d first felt, as well as the confusion as to how, something about this felt okay. The man on the bed, his mirror image, smiled as he watched Jerek relax, and then chuckle. 

“You know,” He said, “When people tell me to go fuck myself, I’m almost positive this isn’t what they had envisioned.” 

The imposter laughed. “Almost?”

Jerek shrugged, for a second thinking back on those red eyes, and how they’d probably go crazy watching the young royal go down on a clone of himself. He turned, wrapping the cloak around himself, bringing the hood up and over his head to hide his features, and the bits of blonde that shined through his hair. 

Without any more words, Jerek nodded to the man and left the room, the imposter left thumbing the bag of gold in his hands with a strange lack of interest. 

-...-

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this months ago, I'm really happy to finally finish it. At least this first chapter, I have a few more chapter ideas to tag onto this, so you might see me expand on this story eventually. If you're interested, please leave a comment, let me know if you'd like to see more of these two. Prehaps Wrathion as well?? ;3


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